


like a whetstone misses its blade

by FreshBrains



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bloodplay, Bodily Fluids, Canon-Typical Violence, Community: rounds_of_kink, F/F, Knifeplay, Light Dom/sub, Mild Kink, POV Roxy, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 21:53:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4803587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roxy raises a hand to Gazelle’s lips. Blood beads down the pads of her fingers, catching in the sweat-warm creases of her knuckles. “I think,” Roxy says, swallowing thickly, “you just like the taste of danger.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	like a whetstone misses its blade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElasticElla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/gifts).



> For elasticella's prompt for Round 26 of Rounds of Kink on LJ: _Gazelle/Roxy, "you just like the taste of danger," knifeplay and/or gunplay._
> 
> The only AU in this fic is that Gazelle survives the film.

“We’ve got more in common than you think we do, pet,” Gazelle says, hair falling down over her face in a shiny curtain. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown, mouth curled into a facsimile of the evil grin she saves for slicing off henchmen’s limbs halfway through a stellar back-handspring.

“Oh?” Roxy tries very hard to keep her voice blasé, but it’s hard when she’s on her back and naked with Gazelle standing above her, blades on either side of her head. And that’s not even factoring in how Gazelle’s cunt is wet and slick and her body is golden-brown and bare, hovering just _there_ above Roxy’s face like she’s daring Roxy to tug her down by the hips and eat her out until they both can’t remember their own names.

But, there are the blades. Pesky things. Unmistakable. Very sharp, and just grazing the shells of Roxy’s ears, their cold steel edges shearing off whispers of blonde hair every time Roxy so much as arches an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Gazelle says, tilting her head to stare down at Roxy. She drops a hand down between her legs and rubs at her cunt—she’s all wet and swollen, _dripping_ , just from the fact that she has Roxy down below her, at her mercy. “We both thought we were quite dangerous, and we both ended up flat on our back.”

“I fail to see our similarities,” Roxy says stiffly. Gazelle’s thighs are still slick on the inside, a red love bite pressed above her left knee.

In a flash, Gazelle bends down like a sleek jungle cat, legs spread, blades still firm on the tile, cunt now only inches from Roxy’s face. She smells amazing, musky and hot, a bit like Roxy herself—a badge of honor after giving the woman a small wealth of orgasms in the beautiful hotel overlooking a somewhat lackluster replica of the Eiffel Tower. Gazelle holds out her fingers and presses them against Roxy’s lips, and before she can even think, Roxy takes them in her mouth, tasting the lingering musk from Gazelle’s own cunt. “You will,” Gazelle says, smiling smugly as Roxy sucks her fingers clean.

Roxy’s Kingsman-issued eyeglasses rest on the lip of the hot tub, the ever-present camera still recording all there is to see.

 _Well, I’ll be fucked_ , Roxy thinks. Gazelle’s blades drift closer to her neck, points scraping over the tile with a horrendous screech.

They’ve been trailing Gazelle for a while after she survived Valentine’s rampage. Roxy knows more about her than she _ever_ wanted to know about _anyone_ , knows where she’s from and where she goes back to, knows how she takes her tea and which side of the bed she sleeps on.

All of Kingsman knows Gazelle likes pretty, slim women with blonde hair and cocky grins, and now they all know that Gazelle knows exactly who Lancelot is and what she wants.

Of course, all it took for the mission to go ass-over-teakettle was a few lovely hours in the private hot tub at the Bellagio in Las Vegas (of all American cities, Gazelle picks the _brightest_ one), three spectacular orgasms that left Roxy feeling like overcooked pasta beneath Gazelle’s skilled hands, and the unearthing of some sort of submission kink Roxy had hoped to keep quite dormant until a much later date.

Then again, a Kingsman must do what a Kingsman must do, or some such nonsense. Three orgasms will really take it out of even the very best woman.

Roxy holds Gazelle’s gaze, knowing her eyes are just as lust-blown and hooded as the other woman’s. Just because the cover is blown doesn’t mean the attraction has left the room. “You see,” she says, voice coming out hoarser than she planned, “after you fell, you got right back up.” She spreads her arms out to her sides and slides them up the tile so she can _very_ carefully curl her fingers around the paper-thin ends of Gazelle’s blades. She feels a cold prick as her skin breaks, but she doesn’t startle—they’re surface cuts, nothing to cry about, and she already tested the blades for poison. “We women always get back up, don’t we?”

Gazelle’s face slackens as if Roxy flipped a switch—her eyes go glassy, her breathing quickens. “You’re bleeding,” she says, voice husky. She nods her head in a sharp jerk. “Let me see.”

Roxy raises a hand to Gazelle’s lips. Blood beads down the pads of her fingers, catching in the sweat-warm creases of her knuckles. “I think,” Roxy says, swallowing thickly, “you just like the taste of danger.” She arches her back—her cunt almost hurts, she’s so aroused, feeling both bold and vulnerable on the floor with the hot tub still roiling merrily next to them. Her breasts brush against Gazelle’s thighs.

“I think you’re playing a dangerous game indeed, little girl,” Gazelle says, catching Roxy firmly by the wrist and bringing her hand up higher. Blood drips down Roxy’s hand in two small rivulets. Gazelle opens her mouth, tongue pink and wet, and catches the blood. It smears on her teeth, making her smile into something gruesome, like an animal back from a successful hunt.

Thankfully, because Roxy is Lancelot first, she uses Gazelle’s moment of bloody ecstasy to jerk her wrist hard and land a solid punch across the slope of Gazelle’s jaw. Gazelle cries out in pain, knocked off balance, and as she falls onto the tile, Roxy rolls to the side and is on her feet.

Even though her purse and gun were buried strategically in her pile of silky underthings at the foot of the bed and already in hand, she’s saved the effort by a spectacular shattering of glass and the welcome sound of Eggsy’s boots landing hard onto tile.

“ _Shit_ ,” Gazelle hisses, teeth still stained with Roxy’s blood. She runs towards the window, ready to launch herself out rather than surrender, but Roxy is quicker, and a tranq dart (disguised in a Chanel lipstick tube) pierces Gazelle’s bare shoulder. She crumples into a ball only inches away from the jagged hole in the window. “What,” she says groggily as her eyes close, “a _bitch_.”

Roxy snorts, grabbing her glasses and sliding them back on along with her earpiece, the rest of her body still gloriously nude.

“Looking a bit disheveled, Rox,” Eggsy says, tossing her a robe without a second thought. “Who would’ve known you were such a freak in the sack?”

“ _No more idle chat_ ,” Merlin says through their earpieces. “ _Extraction twenty seconds away. See you soon_.”

Roxy unties the belt from her robe and wraps it tight around her hand, staunching the thin flow of blood. “Oh, Eggsy,” she says, clapping her friend on the back, “you blokes have no idea what women have to do for the honeypots. Alarming stuff, really.” She says it lightly, but there’s a spark in the back of her mind that imagines of Gazelle licking at her bloodstained fingers, her red, sticky hand drifting down between Roxy’s legs. Roxy suppresses a shiver. “That one needs to be locked away and _soon_.”

Passed out, Gazelle looks almost peaceful, surrounded in a fairy ring of broken glass, her hair covering her naked breasts.

But the woman has _knives_ for feet, for fuck’s sake. Knives. No matter how sweet she looks, Gazelle will always be dangerous, and Roxy will always remember bleeding for her.

Jury’s still out about how she feels about that, exactly.


End file.
